What I Miss

The brown rectangular box radio that sat atop our old Harvest Gold fridge throughout the 1970s, 80s, and 90s. In the 70s and early 80s it was always on, but as my mother's world went from smooth and still to busy and full of noise, the radio would remain off. I noticed later that the lack of music in our home on a daily basis, which saddened me, was my mother's way to establish a serene atmosphere. We were loud enough - why add to that? In the 1990s when I was finally old enough to be left home alone, I would spring onto my tippie toes and reach up to turn the dial way up and bop my head to the newest latest tunes. Even now, whenever I am alone in their house and in the kitchen about to bake cookies, I find that while looking at the recipe book, I walk backwards with my hand reaching up to turn on the radio that is no longer there.

The cornfield behind Rachel's neighbourhood that is now a large suburban development with bland, average homes, plus a retirement community, and an upscale shopping plaza. Over the course of the thirty years we have lived in Jersey, we've witnessed monumental changes within the small township in which we reside. The cornfield is what I miss the most.

Talking, in person, to Marina. She is in South America and will remain there for the next two years or more. She will not be coming home to visit and I cannot afford (at this time) to go see her. We FaceTime through our iPod Touches - and we LOVE it - but it isn't the same and I find myself lying in bed at night sending her telepathic messages in the hopes of performing a Jedi mind trick. It goes like this: "You miss New Jersey and you want to live there for the rest of your life. You are truly happy and fulfilled when you live in Jersey." Sadly, I don't think she'll ever receive the message.

Easily purchasing Polaroid film. Why is this so difficult? And expensive? Yes, yes, I am aware that digital photography has taken over, and while I do embrace it, I want real film to remain available and affordable. Instant photos are wonderful and should never, ever be a thing of the by-gone years.

Kayla and Jaeden and their hugs and attention. Sadly, they spend each weekend now with their father, which is fantastic for them both, is a big downer for me, as now I see them less than ever. I stare at their picture on my desk and want to reach through the photo and chew on their cute god damn faces. They are so precious I can hardly stand it sometimes.

Clear skin and shiny straight hair, circa 1983. Oh how perfect I was then...Silky, girly hair that I could actually touch and run my fingers through and clear porcelain white skin with a dash of freckles. That bad perm in 1988 ruined my once fabulously beautiful hair and my Irish roots have given me the complexion of a Clogherhead fisherman.

Mark, John, and my Grandad.

And sitting on the wall and standing outside the café window smoking with Karen, Bishop, Jenifer, Rama, Susanah, Justin, Rick Ray, Kathryn, Danny, Rick, and Michael. It was easy and simple then and working there was my favourite job. The people I worked with were some of the best I've ever met. I travel back in time in my memory every so often and relive those moments over and over.